


Not to Me, Not if it's You

by Mortimer_Dead_Sea



Series: Fuck Stephen King: Mort Goes Apeshit Over IT [6]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: And then named it the quote, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fix-It, Fuck Stephen King, I have to tag that on all my IT fics, I wrote this based around a quote, Implied/Referenced Sex, Insecurity, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Chapter 2, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, They start doing the do but then it cuts off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 00:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mortimer_Dead_Sea/pseuds/Mortimer_Dead_Sea
Summary: "'Why have you stayed here for two weeks to help me?' Eddie asked.Richie looked genuinely confused by the question. 'You’re my best friend, Eds, why wouldn’t I help you?'Eddie wasn’t sure what to say to that. They had forgotten each other for nearly thirty years and yet Richie still considered him his best friend. The worst part was that Eddie had seen this coming, had prepared himself, and it still knocked the air out of him.'This must suck,' Eddie said to him, as if trying to reason with him. 'Dealing with all of this. Doesn’t it suck?''Not really,' Richie said, all too soft. Then he smiled at him. 'You’re worth it.'What the fuck did that mean?"Eddie can't understand why Richie loves him.





	Not to Me, Not if it's You

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I've just been feverishly writing IT fic for days now, but the ideas won't stop coming. I am an unstoppable machine.
> 
> I wanted to write this around a quote my housemate taught me which goes "I'll take care of you." "It's rotten work." "Not to me, not if it's you." I thought it was very fitting for Richie helping Eddie with his injuries.

Eddie couldn’t comprehend why Richie decided to become his personal caretaker when Eddie was deeply aware of the fact he was one of the hardest people to be around, but whatever. It was Richie’s funeral he supposed. Eddie was sure that after 24 hours of having to share a space with him and deal with all his new medical needs on top of all his other shit, then Richie would be done and leave for good. It would finally hit how much of a mess Eddie was and Richie would never want to talk to him again.

Eddie ignored how the thought of Richie leaving made his stomach hurt.

Eddie had already left his wife. Or his wife had already left him. It was unclear. Eddie had sort of made his decision when he had left for Derry. She hadn’t wanted him to go, had threatened to leave him if he did, and he had gone anyway. But this was a common occurrence. Whenever Eddie went anywhere that wasn’t in the city and for more than a day, she would threaten to leave. He knew he would just go home, his wife would be pissed for a few days, and that would be that.

But when she got a call from the hospital, and Eddie said that there was no way that he would be leaving Derry in his condition, refused to leave until he was healed up, she had been livid, far more so than Eddie had ever heard her before.

So it boiled down to leaving his wife, or going back to New York in his current condition. Ultimately, it had been an easy choice.

Which is how he and Richie had ended up renting an apartment for an indeterminate number of weeks. Richie had been adamant about staying to help him.

Eddie gave him a day.

\----

It had been a week. A week’s worth of Eddie’s bitching, and complaining, and anxiety, and germaphobia, and constant need for help getting around, and yet Richie was still there, changing his bandages, cleaning what needed to be cleaned, cooking food for the both of them, and helping Eddie whenever he needed to get to the bathroom. Eddie could not begin to comprehend what was wrong with Richie Tozier if he hadn’t been scared off by now.

Eddie ignored the warm feeling that settled in his chest.

A full week of slow, careful recovery meant that Eddie could get around more, and he relished in the walk from his room to the living room where Richie was on the couch, laptop open, typing away at an email. He must have heard the shuffling, because once Eddie was in the doorway, he was looking up.

“What’s up, Eds?” he asked.

“Not my name,” Eddie responded automatically. Then he added, “We’re running out of instant meals.”

Eddie normally wasn’t an instant meal person, but moving around meant being able to put things into the microwave, which meant a little less work Richie had to do.

Richie nodded, and shut his computer. “I can get some more.”

“You don’t have to go right now,” Eddie told him.

Richie stood up, stretched his back with a crack, and then shrugged. “It gives me something to do.”

He gently rubbed Eddie’s back as he walked by, and Eddie was immediately embarrassed by the full body shiver that resulted.

“You alright, Spaghetti?”

Eddie glared at him, but didn’t comment on the name. “Yeah. Your hands are just warm and its fucking freezing in here.”

Eddie winced as soon as the words left his mouth. That was a bold-faced lie. It wasn’t cold at all. It was _ summer. _

Richie looked at him for a couple moments longer, an infuriatingly unreadable expression on his face, and then he nodded. “Alright. I’ll be back soon.”

Eddie nodded and watched Richie go, prepared to just drop whatever it was he was doing in order to get Eddie what he needed. They weren’t even out of instant meals yet.

Eddie just didn’t get it.

That night, Richie microwaved their food and the two of them sat in front of Richie’s laptop with their microwaved mac and cheese while watching some bad movie on Netflix. Richie had been adamant about it now that Eddie didn’t have to be holed up in his room all the time. They were pressed up against each other, and Eddie told himself that it was so they could both see the screen better, but he knew he was lying to himself by the way his heart clenched and stomach flipped whenever Richie got close to him. That didn’t mean he was going to acknowledge it.

Eddie couldn’t eat a lot at the moment, and so when he was finished, he handed his leftovers to Richie, who ended up finishing it off all while making terrible jokes at the movie’s expense. Eddie couldn’t help the small smile that settled on his face at seeing Richie look so happy.

He just couldn’t fathom why spending time with Eddie was what was making him so happy. Couldn’t understand why he wanted to be up close and personal with Eddie more than what was required.

Maybe it was those 27 years. Lord knows Eddie had missed him without even realizing it, and he now missed the very idea of what those 27 years could have been, pardon the phrase, like a hole in his chest. Now that he had his friends back, and had Richie right in front of him, he wanted to spend time with him again. Maybe Richie felt the same way.

Another week of Richie changing Eddie’s bandages and he finally asked, “Why?”

Richie looked up from where he was changing Eddie’s bandage, just about finished up, and furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“Why have you stayed here for two weeks to help me?” Eddie asked.

Richie looked genuinely confused by the question. “You’re my best friend, Eds, why wouldn’t I help you?”

Eddie wasn’t sure what to say to that. They had forgotten each other for nearly thirty years and yet Richie still considered him his best friend. The worst part was that Eddie had seen this coming, had prepared himself, and it still knocked the air out of him.

“This must suck,” Eddie said to him, as if trying to reason with him. “Dealing with all of this. Doesn’t it suck?”

“Not really,” Richie said, all too soft. Then he smiled at him. “You’re worth it.”

What the _ fuck _ did that mean?

Richie finished redressing Eddie’s wound and helped Eddie get his shirt back on. His hand lingered on Eddie’s shoulder for just a bit too long for Eddie to not think about it, and then he was gone to go take care of something else in the house, something else that needed to be done for Eddie to be totally comfortable. He always did things without any serious complaint, just mild teasing that still hit Eddie like a sucker punch more often than not.

Eddie couldn’t wait until he was back on his feet more substantially so he could free Richie from this full time job he didn’t sign up for.

\----

Three weeks worth of recovery meant that Eddie could help Richie a bit when changing the bandage, and then any of the other stuff (pills, for the most part) he could handle on his own. He could cook a little now. He could leave the house and help Richie shop, which also meant he could get to the bathroom on his own.

And yet still.

“It’s no problem Eds, you can stay here and relax.”

“Don’t call me that, asshole,” Eddie fired back. “And I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.”

Richie studied him for a moment before shrugging. “Alright, it’s your funeral.”

And that’s how they ended up in the supermarket ten minutes later, arguing over what kind of cereals to buy.

“I want Reese's Puffs.”

“Those are terrible for you! The Raisin Bran helps regulate your system.”

“Raisin Bran is old man cereal, Spaghetti.”

“Don’t call me that!”

It felt weirdly domestic, much like the past three weeks had been, but this also felt different somehow. This wasn’t them doing what they always used to do as kids, watching movies and eating food as friends often do. This was them shopping together for supplies they needed in the home they currently shared, bickering like “an old married couple”, as their friends often described it. That feeling was back in Eddie’s stomach. He felt nauseous, but in a good way, which made no sense to him.

They ended up getting both cereals. They ended up getting both of a lot of things, until Eddie started to get tired and sore, and they paid for their things and left.

Once they got back, Eddie tried to help put everything away, but Richie ushered him to the living room couch.

“You helped plenty, Eds,” Richie said once Eddie was seated on the couch. “I can handle it from here.”

Eddie couldn’t understand how Richie thought Eddie bickering with him the whole time was helpful, but whatever. He settled on the couch and turned on the news and ignored it in favor of listening to Richie rustle around with paper bags and wooden cabinets. The deep senses of both domesticity and uselessness made Eddie’s heart ache in the strangest way.

\----

Eddie woke up a couple hours after getting home from the store to someone shaking him and yelling “Eds” over and over again. His eyes shot open and in a flash he remembered the nightmare he was having, the nightmare he had been having for weeks now, of Richie dead or dying, of another life without him, but with the deep, unyielding ache of memory this time.

Then his eyes focused, and he saw Richie looking down at him, scared and concerned.

“Are you ok, Eds?”

Eddie stared at him for a few moments, alive and in one piece. Without even thinking, he reached out, and placed a hand over Richie’s chest, feeling the contraction of his lungs and the rhythm of his heart, and only then could he bring himself to believe that Richie really was alive and only dead in his nightmares.

“Eds…” Richie grasped Eddie’s face, and Eddie realized he was staring down at his own hand on Richie’s chest. Then Richie lifted his head, and Eddie moved willingly.

They were holding eye contact now. Richie’s hands cradling Eddie’s face, and- it felt too much like when they were kids. When they were in the Neibolt house and Eddie had nearly died, and Richie held his face in his hands so that Eddie would look at him instead of at Pennywise. Eddie remembered being terrified of everything all at once, of Pennywise killing him and of Richie caring about him. It had all been so overwhelming.

It was overwhelming now, but in a different way, as Eddie finally admitted to himself that he was in love with Richie, and had been since they were kids, that his biggest fear was losing him all over again.

“I’m ok,” Eddie said. “I’ve just been having nightmares.”

Richie nodded. “Yeah, me too.” He was still holding Eddie’s face.

“Of what?” Eddie asked. He wanted so badly to know that he wasn’t alone.

Richie paused, and seemed to contemplate Eddie for a few moments. He didn’t move his gaze, or his hands. Eddie raised his own hands and gently grasped Richie’s forearms. It seemed to do the trick.

“When I was in the Deadlights, I saw you dying,” Richie explained, voice soft, and scared. “I have nightmares about it.”

Eddie nodded, and they rested their foreheads together. “I have nightmares about you dying, too.”

They sat like that for a while, foreheads pressed together, just holding on, and then Richie reached out and pulled Eddie forward, hugging him as tight as he could without disturbing Eddie’s injury. Eddie returned the hug, his hand buried in Richie’s hair and his face wedged into his neck, thankful for the anchor of touch and the reminder that they were all just dreams and they were both alive.

They held each other in silence for a while, until Richie spoke up. “It’s kind of late, Eds. Do you think you could eat something?”

Eddie nodded. “Is it ok if we make spaghetti?” Eddie normally didn’t eat this many carbs, but spaghetti had been one of the few comfort foods he was allowed as a kid. Not because his mother allowed it, but because whenever Eddie got upset, Richie would make some at night, long after his parents had gone to bed, and then would sneak it to school for him and Eddie to share. Stone cold, cheesy, and wonderful.

“I think that might count as cannibalism, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie pulled away, and Eddie couldn’t bring himself to reprimand him for the name or the joke when he saw the smile on Richie’s face. “But anything for you.”

Eddie knew Richie meant it, and it scared him.

They made spaghetti together, arguing whether or not they had to put salt in the pot or put a lid on top, but soon enough, the spaghetti was dropped in. Then they decided to heat up a jar of sauce and grate cheese, a luxury they had with control over their own groceries.

Richie drained the spaghetti and put equal amounts of two plates, before they each put on sauce and cheese and then sat in front of Richie’s computer to watch another shitty movie. They sat pressed together as they ate, and then they put their plates off to the side when they were done. As soon as the plates were out of the way, Richie tangled their legs together. Eddie welcomed the contact after the afternoon he had had, and so pushed himself closer, their arms linking together, and their heads propped against one another.

Richie kept cracking jokes throughout the whole movie, and Eddie smiled, rubbing his thumb along the top of Richie’s hand. They were no strangers to sharing each other’s space, and it was an easy routine to fall back into, but right now, Eddie couldn’t help but feel a little wired, terrified of losing and having Richie all at once.

Richie pulled him closer, and he was practically seated in his lap now, but he went willingly, head resting on Richie’s shoulder, comforted by the feeling of Richie laughing deep from within his chest. It was far more calming than it should have been, and Eddie could feel himself being lulled back to sleep, and he shut his eyes.

“Hey, Eds?”

Eddie hummed in response, too tired for anything else.

“Have I told you I’m gay?”

Eddie’s eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright and turned to look at Richie, wincing only slightly.

“You’re what?”

Richie’s eyes darted around behind his glasses before the landed on Eddie again, and he smiled nervously. “Uh… I’m gay?”

Eddie stared at him for a while, just taking him in with a shocked expression on his face. This whole time, Richie had been gay, too. He hadn’t been alone. 

“Eddie…”

Eddie sucked in a breath as if coming back to life, and focused on Richie’s face. He looked scared. “Please say something…”

Eddie’s eyes widened, and without even thinking, he reached out took one of Richie’s hands. “Sorry. It’s just that I am, too.”

Now Richie looked shocked, and the two of them were just staring at each other in shocked silence, hands loosely clasped together while some bad Netflix original movie played in the background.

Then Richie looked nervous and frightened, and said, “I have something else to tell you.”

Eddie swallowed thickly. “And that is?”

Richie stared at him for a while, and Eddie could see the gears turning in his mind, as if he were weighing something over and over.

Then he reached out and took Eddie’s face in his hands again, and leaned in to kiss the side of his mouth.

A million thoughts burst into Eddie’s mind at once, and all his fears and desires went to war with each other, but in that moment he wanted nothing more than for Richie to kiss him fully. And so Eddie gripped the back of his head and tilted it so that their mouths could slot together. Richie released his head, and grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him forward. Eddie was straddling him at this point, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he threaded his fingers into Richie’s hair for the second time that day and just let himself have this.

\----

They spent the rest of Eddie’s time recovering in a sort of domestic bless. They had a plan now; Eddie had managed to find a job in LA and would move out there, leaving all the bullshit from his life behind. They told the other Losers, who all gave wholehearted congratulations, and agreed to raid Eddie’s house to pack his things and have them sent to Richie’s home in LA where Eddie would be living. They had discovered from these past few weeks that they could live together cohesively and loved doing so. 

Even more of a miracle was that they could share a bed. They had both taken up residence in what was Eddie’s room but now their shared room. Eddie relished in the fact that he slept better at night with Richie pressed up against his back, and Richie clearly felt the same.

After the three weeks, Eddie no longer needed heavy bandaging, and he could take care of it on his own, although Richie was still adamant about helping.

“I like helping you,” he had said with a twinkle in his eye. Even so, Eddie couldn’t help the residual guilt over the fact Richie still felt as though he had to help him.

They went out to dinner one night. “A real date,” Richie had said. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

Eddie had too, and when he told as much to Richie, his whole face lit up, and Eddie’s heart stopped. He couldn’t believe that look was directed at him and the very simple idea of being on a date with him.

The date was amazing, if Eddie was being honest. It really wasn’t much, nothing fancy, or expensive, and Eddie wouldn’t have wanted that anyway. He just wanted Richie in front of him, like always, and the thought was a little less scary than it used to be.

Richie had convinced Eddie to branch out what he ate. It started out with all the carbs and a touch of dairy, but Richie was going steps farther and mixing up what he made with all the things Eddie never ate. He had even managed to convince Eddie to try to the Reese's Puffs as long as Richie had 911 open on his phone in case Eddie _ did _ have a peanut allergy and promised to try the Raisin Bran. As it turned out, Eddie didn’t have a peanut allergy, Richie actually liked raisins, and Reese's Puffs were good.

For dinner tonight, Richie had convinced him to order a coca cola. On the occasion that Eddie drank soda, it tended to be a Sprite, or one of the many variations of it. The most adventurous he got was that time he drank orange soda as a kid. He didn’t end up liking the coke, but he was glad he at least tried it, and Richie traded drinks with him.

It was nice, being more adventurous with his food intake. And Richie smiling at him the whole time made it a lot easier.

After dinner, they had simply walked around outside for a while, a luxury that Eddie had only just got back. Richie took his hand in his own as they walked, and Eddie couldn’t remember a time something so simple had made him so happy.

When they got into the apartment that Eddie was starting to think of as home, they got ready for bed, and crawled in one after another.

Richie planted a kiss on Eddie’s forehead and said, “Good night, Eds.”

Eddie smacked his arm and said, “Don’t call me that” but he was smiling as he added, “Good night, Rich.”

And as he fell asleep to Richie’s soft snores next to him, Eddie realized that loving Richie wasn’t scaring him anymore.

But when it came to Richie loving him, he still felt the touch of guilt.

\----

After a little over a month’s stay and Eddie’s injury now just being a long pink scar, they decided it was time to pack up and head to LA. Packing everything was simple enough, there wasn’t much there anyway, and they were set to head to leave the next day.

That afternoon, Richie took Eddie to the Kissing Bridge, and showed him a spot where Richie had carved their initials “R + E” into the wood.

“I think I saw this…” Eddie said. “I think I saw it and wanted it to be us.”

Eddie looked at Richie, who’s eyes looked wet as he pulled Eddie towards him, and they stood like that for a while, just holding each other in the afternoon sun. Richie took a photo of his childhood handiwork, and then briefly smiled down at the photo before they got back into the car so they could be well rested for their trip the next day.

Once they were at Richie’s place in LA, they spent a couple of days unpacking all of Eddie’s things and finding places for them, decluttering and organizing the whole while.

“I don’t think my house has ever been this clean,” Richie said after it was all said and down.

“I saw your childhood room,” Eddie reminded him. “I concur.”

“Hey!” Richie protested with a smile and a small shove. Eddie laughed and gently shoved him back.

Neither of them were tired when they went to bed. They weren’t sure what it was. Maybe it was the feeling of being done unpacking, of being settled in a home they now share, of being able to return to the parts of their lives they actually enjoyed while _ finally _ having each other by their side.

But when they go into bed, Richie kissed him, and then pulled him closer and kissed him harder, and Eddie went willingly. He let Richie climb on top of him, practically holding him down as he kissed him over and over again. He wrapped his arms around Richie’s back as Richie kissed down his jaw and neck. Eddie felt his pants tighten.

They hadn’t gotten here yet, not with Eddie’s injury. But now…

Eddie pulled Richie back, and kissed him hard. Richie rutted against him and they both groaned. Eddie had never wanted someone this badly before.

Then again, he had never really wanted anybody besides Richie.

Richie went back to kissing his jaw and neck, and Eddie ran his fingers through his curls. He tugged, and Richie gasped, and so he tugged a bit harder. He honestly had no idea what he was doing outside of some baseline things, but it seemed like just listening to Richie was working well enough so far.

Richie bit his neck, and Eddie gasped as he sucked a bruise there. Then Richie palmed at his crotch, and Eddie moaned quietly. Richie was starting to undo his pants now, and something in Eddie froze.

“You ok, Eds?”

“Don’t-” Eddie cut himself off from telling Richie not to call him that. He would never in a million years admit this out loud, but Eddie liked the nicknames Richie gave him. They always set off butterflies in his stomach, they had since they were just kids, and it was always that feeling that caused Eddie to snap whenever Richie used one, too afraid to admit to himself what that feeling was. And right now, hearing them softly whispered to him as he laid on his back, pressed between Richie and the bed, they were lighting a fire in his abdomen. He liked it. He liked it a lot.

“Eds?”

Eddie opened his eyes to see Richie looking down at him with concern.

Eddie thought of something to say, and settled on, “Don’t stop.”

Richie nodded, and then bent down to push his shirt up, and began to kiss along the scar that started in the middle of his chest and ended right above his navel. Feather light kisses that made Eddie’s skin burn, and he could not fathom why Richie was taking such care with him. Gentle as if he would break. As if he deserved it.

His eyes were starting to itch.

As soon as Richie pressed one last kiss to the very tip of Eddie’s scar, he began pulling Eddie’s pants down, moving back up so he could press kisses to Eddie’s jaw and neck. Richie palmed at his erection through his underwear, and Eddie’s breath hitched. He had never wanted something this much.

His eyes stung behind his eyelids. Richie was being so gentle, Eddie couldn’t quite understand why it felt so overwhelming.

“I love you so much, Eds.”

Then Eddie started crying.

Richie stopped immediately, and was lifting Eddie so that he was sitting up and pressed against Richie’s chest. Richie’s thumb was brushing against his cheek, wiping away the tears that had started to fall.

“Are you alright, Eds?” he asked, voice soft. “I didn’t mean to push you. We don’t have to-”

“It’s not that,” Eddie said before Richie got too deep into his unnecessary apology. “I just… Don’t get it.”

Richie tilted his head up so that they were making eye contact. He still looked concerned, but more confused now. “What don’t you get?”

“Why you love me,” Eddie said just a tad aggressively, as if he couldn’t believe it wasn’t obvious.

_ “What?” _ Richie took Eddie’s face in his hands,still thumbing away tears. “What do you mean, why do I love you? Of course I love you.”

“But _ why?” _ Eddie asked. There was a lump in his throat and it was making it more and more difficult to talk. “I’m a mess, a _ huge _ mess, and you were just stuck taking care of me for a month while I complained the whole time. Even as a kid, I was little shit. _ Why?” _

Richie’s gaze softened immediately. “Eds…” He planted a kiss on Eddie’s forehead. “I told you, I didn’t mind helping you because it’s you. I love you, and I want you to be safe, and happy, and _ alive.” _

Eddie relaxed a bit at the words, but also felt fresh tears fill behind his eyes. “But why do you love me?”

“You’re my best friend, Eds,” Richie said. “And you’re smart, and resourceful, and you’ve always had our backs. We had only just met Ben when you were helping him heal up. You’re more generous and caring than you give yourself credit for. And when nobody else could deal with me, you never left my side. You might be a mess, Eddie Kaspbrak, but you’re my mess.”

He kissed Eddie’s forehead again. “I mean, why do you love me? I know I’m not exactly the easiest person to be around.”

He said it to be funny, as if he were joking, but Eddie recognized that telltale hitch in his voice, the wavering confidence. Richie was having the same problem.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” Eddie said. “But I think you’re funny.”

Richie gasped, and the grin on his face meant trouble, Eddie knew it.

“Shut the fuck up!” Eddie yelled, but Richie was laughing and pulled him closer so he could kiss him hard. Eddie couldn’t help it as he laughed into the kiss, and soon they were just pressing their smiled together and laughing into each other’s mouths.

“I do think you’re funny,” Eddie repeated. “And you’re one of the most patient, loving people I’ve ever met. You’re a mess, too, but I think our messes work well together.”

Richie was smiling at him with tears in his eyes, and then they were kissing again, smiling and laughing against each other as they wet each other’s cheeks.

Then he pulled Richie back down, back on top of him, and they resumed where they left off.

“Hey, Rich?”

Richie looked up at him from where he was positioned between his legs. “Yeah, Eds?”

“I love you, too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter, where I yell about IT a lot: @mortimerdeadsea


End file.
